


Stay

by HeirofFuck



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Body Worship, Emotional Porn, Emotional Sex, F/M, Love, Making Love, OTP Feels, Porn With Plot, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:18:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeirofFuck/pseuds/HeirofFuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm scared. I'm scared I'm gon lose you. I can't lose you." </p>
<p>That was rediculous. You weren't fucking going anywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> My first little MeenahxKarkat drabble. Just a cute little morning after one shot. I hope you enjoy!

The cool breeze that had been managing to slide through the window adjacent to you, which had only been left open a crack, danced along the skin of your arm, a contrast to the fiery hot body heat you naturally emitted. Earth was a weird place. For starters, there was water falling from the clouded heavens, in small little droplets, like the sky was a shower head. It was called rain apparently, and it happened occasionally. Not that you really minded or anything, it was relaxing in its own sort of way. You were sort of thankful for the weather today, cool wet and rainy, a nice change from the heat that usually left the human's paved roads scalding and drew all sorts of strange and alien looking insects to the sweat your body produced. Earth's sun was nothing compared to what had been Alternia's, which you had never gotten to see due to the fact that you would probably be burnt to a crisp if you ever attempted to experience the heat of your old sun.  

   Right now, the earth was swinging through a season which the humans called summer, and summer only seemed to last half a sweep-erm-year, before it got cold and ice rain called snow or hail would tumble from the puffy clouds and form a blank sheet of uncolored canvas on the land. To be honest, you liked the winters better. She liked the summers.  

    She was still asleep, as it was just dawn, the chip beasts-or-birds outside your window had just begun to make all their strange sounds and calls. Not that they weren't pretty to listen to, you just thought they were strange. But then again, everything on earth was strange. Thin, toned and smooth, her legs were wrapped around your own, tangled up in the most lovely of knots, while her arms where clinging to you, as if you might float away from her if she didn't hold you here. That was a ridiculous thought though. You weren't fucking going anywhere.

   Both of your faces were pressed against the golden pillow sheet, the actual pillow no longer cool to the touch but warm-hot even-from your own body heat. The wrinkled sheets that covered your bodies from the chest down, kept all the warmth you radiated, warming her while she kept you cool. You liked the way she did that without even trying, her natural heat was an icy ocean in comparison to your own, and you wouldn't have it any other way. She was perfect, just laying there, smeared fuchsia lipstick that was probably all over your face as well, hair a mess and wildly tangled, breathing softly in and out.

     Seeing her breath was a comfort that was both foreign and relieving. You had seen her dead, spoken with her dead, looked into her blank white eyes and seeing nothing-no emotion no soul no feeling. Needless to say, you preferred her alive, as well as she preferred herself. Looking at her without the shading of her goggles was one of your favorite ways to see her. Bright, royal colored, wide eyes that seemed to be the most beautiful thing the mother grub could have possibly created, and no matter how many times you looked into them and saw your own reflection, they always left you breathless.

    Last night came back in flashes and blurs. You had been talking with Terezi again, you couldn't remember what it had been about, probably the normal bullshit you two casually conversed about while she attempted to prove you wrong with that shit eating grin of hers. You and Pyrope had always been friends, good friends, but for some reason, whenever she saw the two of you together she became horribly jealous. As perfect as she was, as beautiful and regal, she had a temper that could match your own when she needed to.

    Though, last night, she had not stormed up to you. She had not tore you away from the teal blooded libra, nor had she started a fight. Rather, you found her, sitting on your golden, nautical themed king bed, in your nautical themed room (she wouldn't have at it any other way, and truth be told, you didn't mind the sea themed room all that much, especially when she lets you put all your rom-com posters up on the empty walls.)

    Head in her hands with her elbows resting on her knees, she sat in a quiet curled up composure, a cloud of sadness floating above her. Seeing her upset was something anyone rarely saw, even you, as her matesprite-uh-boyfriend had hardly seen the heiress upset. And yet there she had been, seated on the edge of the bed, not acknowledging your presence as you entered the room.

 "...do you love me?"

    What a stupid question of course you loved her. You loved her more than you loved yourself! The more you had tried to tell her so last night the more upset she seemed to become. Shaking her head and trying to fight back the obvious pink tears prickling at the corners of her yellow and fuchsia eyes.

    "I get so scared sometimes. I get scared I'm gon lose you. I can't lose you."

   What happened after that was when the blur entered your mind. You assuring her you loved her, a small whispered "I love you." Between kisses that littered her cheeks and lips. Then suddenly you were on top of her, kissing her lips, dipping your tongue into her mouth, the whispers never ceasing "I love you I love you I love you." The coolness of her body against the heat of your own always drove you crazy.

   You remember pulling the black crop top off her body, the pink sign on it folding as you tossed it to the floor, letting it become limp and useless as you ran you calloused hands up and down the feminine curves of her body. She was fit, thin, yet still retained the curves of her waist through human workout training which could only be called "hip hop on Monday nights, Zumba class on Thursday."

   You remember kissing from the hemline of her baggy black sweatpants, passed the piercing in her belly button, gently kissing her stomach, and between her ribcage, trailing a line of kisses between her rumble-no-breasts. Breasts. They were called breasts. Along the dip of her collarbone, up her neck, which craned for you, wanting you to leave the spots that marked her as yours.

   Back on Alternia, doing that would have been punishable by death. A lowly mutant blood like yourself marking an empress to be as his own was unheard of. Against the law, even. She could mark him up as much a she wanted to-if they had still been in that circumstance-but they weren't. You weren't. You were on earth and you would mark her if you so pleased-and you did.

   Through bites and nips and licks that caused her to make those little pleased noises. Those little whines that you loved to hear so much. And after you had marked her neck up quite fully, you moved your lips along her jawline, across her smooth cheek, and back on to those full lips that you loved so much.

   You loved to worship her body. Every inch, every fucking inch, that she allowed you to touch was a miracle. A lowly mutant like yourself should not be allowed to even look at her, much less touch her in ways as intimate as this had been. She should be worshipped, treated like the empress she was and idolized by only you, who had seen her in such a glorifying way that only she allowed you to see her.

   In the times you had touched her in the past, she had always topped, occasionally letting you take the wheel, but mostly she was the one in control. You didn't mind it, you never minded it, as long as she touched you, you didn't care who was on the top and who was on the bottom. But last night, last night had been something that was much more than a quick fuck. Much more than something cultivated from the heat of the moment. It wasn't fucking you did last night. It was more intimate, passionate, full of emotion that you did not know how to express before.

   You topped. You made love to her. You were the one to undress the both of you, you were the one to kiss every sacred part of her body, you where the one that had been inside of her while she arched her back and moaned your name like you were her saving grace. You. You. You.

   You think you might even like this way better. This making love thing instead of just fucking, which sounded all too harsh now. You liked the feeling of being so intimately tangled up with another being, so full of passion that it threatened to make you forget everything except her name.

"Meenah. Meenah. Meenah I love you."

   And now you were here. The morning after, the rainy, pale skyed morning after in which you reminisce the happenings of last night. The perfection of last night. The perfection of her. All wrapped up in your arms, cooling you off as you warmed her up, messy haired, lipstick smudged, sleeping heiress who had thrust your blood pusher-uhh-heart into a red romance that had accidentally spilled and mixed in with a pale one-something the humans called love. And boy where you up to your ears in love. You weren't going anywhere. She wasn't losing you. You were staying right here, in this bed, with her. Nudging her forehead gently with the bridge of your nose, you decide you want to be the only one awake no more. As beautiful as she was sleeping, she was beautiful awake as well. And when long lashes fluttered open to expose, sleepy, bright and brilliant fuchsia irises, you couldn't help but murmur to her as she looked up at you.

  "Meenah, I love you. And I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
